


It's Just the Coffee

by omniscientdino



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: College AU, I know, I'll add the other pairings and whatnot as I upload the chapters that they're in, M/M, coffee shop AU, i shoved every trope i love into one fic sorry, it was written entirely at night, oooo maybe there'll be some fake dating, sorry for this, that no one asked for, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:20:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9222989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omniscientdino/pseuds/omniscientdino
Summary: Another coffee shop, another university. Some things will always be the same. (aka where I shove most of my favourite tropes into one crowded fic)





	1. Chapter 1

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any mildly snowy day will fill a small cafe to the brim with cold, irritated customers and today was no exception. Everytime the door opened, Grantaire could see Joly cringing back from his spot at the espresso machine and had to fight the urge to do the same from behind the cash register.

He hated working that goddamn cash register and Éponine knew it. She knew he was terrible with the general public. She only made him work it when she was pissed at him. This happened a lot. Today’s punishment was because she had caught him teaching Gavroche how to swear in Spanish.

“But Ép,” he had whined, “it’s better than teaching him actual swears.” That had apparently been the wrong thing to say.

“Does that mean you’re teaching him those too?!” The glint in her eye told him this was not a fight he wanted to pursue. He decided he was better off keeping his mouth shut as long as her anger was still simmering.

Lucky for her she was his manager and could take her anger out on him in the form of forced customer service. So, there he was, smiling and sympathizing with every customer wandering in, complaining of the cold and taking their sweet time deciding on what to drink, all the while wishing for the sweet, sweet release of death.

After the eighth customer in a row ordered a hot chocolate, taking a full two minutes to do so, the sight of Courfeyrac walking in the door made Grantaire tear up a little.

“Alright, Courf?” Joly called out next to him.

“Never better!” he called out cheerfully. Courfeyrac had been a favourite of the Cafe Musain for a little while now. He was a student at the nearby university and came in almost religiously every Sunday at three pm on the dot. He always chatted with the baristas from his usual perch on the coffee bar. He was a funny, ferocious flirt who had wormed his way into their hearts. One time he had even tried chatting up Éponine, which was a bit of a laugh for them all. When she later grudgingly admitted that he was slightly charming, she sealed it: he was theirs.

“R behind the register?” Courf raised an eyebrow inquisitively. He lowered his tone. “What did you do to piss off Éponine this time?”

Grantaire laughed. Courfeyrac really knew way too much about them all. Maybe it was weird that a customer had managed to develop real friendships with all of them, but he wasn’t complaining. Besides, movie nights with Courf were the best.

“Are you two gossiping about me?” a voice demanded from directly behind Grantaire. He jumped a bit and then was knocked into a machine as Éponine pushed him aside to lean over the counter and greet Courfeyrac with a kiss on the cheek. Joly squeaked in protest and scuttled to the back where he was less likely to be injured.

“Only good things, my love,” Courf assured her, smiling that crooked little smile of his. Éponine rolled her eyes but gave a slight smile back despite herself. That disappeared quickly and a scowl took its place as she turned reproachfully toward Grantaire.

“You better not teach him dirty words too,” she warned. Grantaire scoffed and ruffled her hair as she turned to walk back to the kitchen. The glare she sent his way promised him cashier duty for the rest of his shift and Grantaire couldn’t help but feel he had made a horrible mistake.

“Are you teaching children dirty words?” Courfeyrac stage-whispered, eyes wide open with mock astonishment. Drama personified. Grantaire sighed.

“I teach Gav one bad word in Spanish and suddenly I’m public enemy number one.”

Courfeyrac laughed. “Swearing in Spanish is so much more satisfying than in any other language,” he said with a wink.  

“Here you go, Courf,” Joly said, returning from the back and handing over a cup with Courf’s usual poured neatly inside it. Courfeyrac blew Joly a kiss, which Joly then proceeded to dramatically catch, and then headed toward his usual spot at the coffee bar, right beside where Gavroche was busy doing his homework.

Grantaire grinned to himself and re-tied his apron so his hands would have something to do. Beside him, Joly started whistling.

A gust of cold air punched him in the face as the door opened and a bright orange coat walked in. The customer pulled up short in front of the register, hood still up, and stood there for a good minute before Grantaire realized he was speaking.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” he asked politely. The customer blinked and then pulled down their hood, revealing a shock of blond hair, a nose pink from the cold, and cheeks pink from embarrassment.

“Sorry, sorry! Could I just get a tea?” He spoke somewhat breathlessly, still reeling from the cold outside. Grantaire rang him up.

“Can I get a name for your cup?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s, armgernchrnf.” Grantaire blinked.

“Sorry?”

“Enjolras! It’s Enjolras!” He then proceeded to spell it out for Grantaire. He spoke nervously, cheeks and ears getting redder by the second. When he was done, he gave Grantaire a timid little smile, blond hair spiraling out in ringlets. Grantaire couldn’t help but think of a child’s painting of the sun.

“Sorry, it throws everyone off. I should really just start giving a fake name.” Grantaire grinned back and sent his cup down the line.

“My name’s Grantaire so I don’t really have room to judge.”

“Enjy! You made it!” Courf’s voice rang out from his spot a few feet down. He waved his arms up and down maniacally and headed in their direction.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Stop calling me Enjy, you know I hate it.” His tone sounded annoyed but a softness in his face betrayed his fondness.

“You know Courfeyrac?” Grantaire questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course he does!” Courf butted in. “We’ve been best friends since freshman year of high school.” He slung an arm around a disgruntled Enjolras’ shoulder. Not sure how to respond, Grantaire gave an awkward sort of nod. Enjolras looked just as uncomfortable.

“Right. Well, Courf, there’s that planning we need to do?” he said suggestively. Distracted, Courfeyrac headed back to his spot, this time pulling Enjolras along with him. They looked like a comedy duo. Grantaire smiled while shaking his head and turned his attention to the group of teenagers coming through the door.   
  


An hour later, once things had slowed down again, Courfeyrac and Enjolras approached the counter.

“Hey, could you get Éponine? Or Chetta, if she’s in.”

After a quick trip to the back revealed neither Éponine or Musichetta’s presence, Grantaire headed back to the front where the two seemed to be in some sort of discussion.

“Sorry, I think Ép’s on her break and Chetta’s out for the day. I can probably help you, though. What’s up?” They exchanged glances. Enjolras spoke up first.

“We actually wanted to ask about using your back room for our student organization.” Unlike before, he sounded entirely confident, all timidness swept aside.

“I’ll have to check our reservations, but I’m pretty sure it’s usually free. What’s the organization and when do you guys usually meet?”

“We’re called Friends of the ABC. Maybe you’ve heard of us?” He seemed to excitedly search Grantaire’s eyes for any sign of recognition.

“Sorry, can’t say that I have. What do you guys do?” Enjolras’ eyes picked up a specific kind of shine.

“We focus on improving the education and governmental system both locally and internationally through lobbying, petitioning, and activism. We believe that the enlightenment of man starts with the education of children.” The statement was said both forcefully and factually. Grantaire felt taken aback.

Still, he couldn’t help but laugh as the words suddenly clicked.

“What’s funny?” The question came a little sharply and Grantaire found himself hastily scrambling to explain his thoughts.

“No, it’s just. The pun. I get it. ABC like the alphabet, but also like the french word _abaisse_ for, like, the lowly or whatever. It’s clever.”

“You speak French?” Enjolras seemed surprised. Beside him, Courfeyrac appeared bemused.

“Barely. Nothing special.” Maybe a slight under-exaggeration. He was passingly fluent, but that wasn’t something most people knew. Enjolras didn’t look like he was buying it and opened his mouth, but Courfeyrac spoke first.

“Here I thought no one would figure it out.” He sounded almost disappointed.

“Not to worry, Courf. Anything else would have flown right past me,” Grantaire assured him. “Anyway, when do you guys meet? So I can look it up on the schedule.”

“We try to meet every Tuesday and Thursday, from seven until nine in the evening.” Grantaire consulted the clipboard underneath the cash register.

“Yeah, you guys look good. I’ll check with Musichetta later and then I’ll text you, Courf.”

“No!” Courfeyrac and Grantaire both turned toward Enjolras inquisitively. The confidence apparent only moments before had turned back into red-cheeked fumbling.

“I only meant you should text me about it, since I’m in charge of organizing everything,” he said, avoiding eye-contact.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll need your phone number, then,” Grantaire said, reaching into his back pocket. He was too busy opening a new contact page that he didn’t see Courfeyrac raise an eyebrow at Enjolras, who furiously glared back, the skin under his freckles glowing pink.

Once he had finished entering his contact information, Enjolras excused himself to the bathroom, running into a table on the way.

“What was all that?” Grantaire questioned aloud.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Courf had that bemused look again. He glanced over at Grantaire speculatively. “You should come to one of our meetings.”

Grantaire laughed. “Oh, I don’t think it’s my kind of thing.” Truth be told, he had heard of their group before. They all sounded like borderline-Communists with extreme beliefs who started shit with the police constantly. He was actually surprised to see their leader was someone so easily flustered. From what he had heard, this was the same person who single-handedly turned a peaceful protest into a riot just by speaking.

“Just give it a try. I think Enjolras really wanted to ask you. It would make him happy to see a new face.” Courfeyrac had the same tone he used when planning something elaborate. Grantaire sighed.

“If you’re trying to set me up with an over-eager idealist…” Sure, Enjolras was nice-looking. All those freckles and that blond hair? That endearing awkwardness? Grantaire was only human. Still. “I don’t date wide-eyed revolutionaries.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “It’s just a meeting, R,” he said, using Grantaire’s nickname. “I’m not trying to marry you off.”

Grantaire was unconvinced.

“Although, for what it counts, I think he _does_ like you. I’ve never seen him so flustered around another human being before in my life.”

“I knew it. I knew you were trying to set me up!”

“Come on, R! Just come to a meeting! No set-up. I think you’d like it. I know you’d like the people.” Grantaire sighed.

“Maybe.”

“Ready to go, Courf?” Enjolras’ voice pulled them out of their shared space.

“Oh, yeah! Let me grab my jacket.” Courfeyrac headed back to his seat, leaving Grantaire and Enjolras alone together.

Without the distraction of customers coming through the door, Grantaire suddenly felt awkward.

“You should come,” Enjolras’ said suddenly. “To the meeting, I mean,” he clarified after a moment of silence.

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Grantaire scrambled for words. “Oh, I’m not sure if my schedule will work out.” Enjolras nodded awkwardly, looking embarrassed, and Grantaire felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"But I'm sure I can figure something out." He blurted out.

“Oh, yeah, of course I understand-” They had spoken simultaneously. Silence followed as each processed what the other had said.

“Oh! Oh you mean you’ll come then?” His voice sounded hopeful. Grantaire knew he would regret it later, but he nodded.

“Sweet! Awesome. That’s, uh. That’s great.” He gave another small smile that was somehow still blinding and Grantaire knew right then that there was no way he was missing that meeting.

“Let’s go, Enjy!” Courf called out. Enjolras rolled his eyes but trotted off to the door where Courfeyrac stood, waiting.

“See you then, Grantaire!” he called out, smiling. Courfeyrac shuffled him out the door, throwing a smirking glance back at Grantaire who immediately flipped him off.

  
He was going to fucking regret agreeing to this.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went back and edited the first chapter a bit. nothing huge, just wanted to make it flow better. i'll probably do that a lot bc i fixate on stupid things sorry hmu on tumblr if you want. it's thefinaldeathlyhallow it's basically a grab bag of stuff so there's that

“Please?”

“No, R. Stop asking.”

“...Pretty please?”

“R, I swear to god. I’m not going to this stupid meeting so you can make moony eyes at your new boyfriend or whatever.” Éponine was starting to sound pissed.

“He’s not my boyfriend! I barely know him!” That probably came out a little too fast. “Come on, Ép! It’s one meeting and I know you don’t work tomorrow night.”

“I have plans.”

“Bullshit.”

“Okay, fine, I don’t have plans. Still not going.” Her tone sounded final. Disgruntled, Grantaire settled into their couch a little deeper, sighing slightly. He needed to find someone to go to this meeting with him and Éponine was not cooperating. He had already texted Jehan in hopes that they could go with him, but an hour later and there was still no response. His prospects were looking dim.

Still, it was nice to be relaxing on the couch here with Éponine. In a rare moment of luck, neither of them had been scheduled for the next two nights. Gavroche was in his room, doing homework, or playing video games, or whatever it is twelve year-olds did at night and the only noise was the low hum of the television playing whatever trashy reality show Éponine had picked this time. Sometimes he felt incredibly lucky to live with and work with his best friend. 

If only she’d just go with him to this goddamn meeting.  

Just when he had abandoned all hope of even going to the meeting, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Sure that it was Jehan, he practically lunged for it while Éponine snorted next to him. 

“Your boyfriend?”

“It’s literally Jehan. I don’t have a boyfriend. Kindly shut the fuck up.” A notification for a text from Courfeyrac lit up the screen. So not Jehan then. 

 

_ for the love of god pls just text enjolras already. he’s been staring at his phone all day and it’s driving all of us mad. _

 

Grantaire almost choked. Shit. He had forgotten to text about the availability of the back room. He quickly texted back.

 

_ sorry, totally forgot. didnt mean to make him keep worrying about it ill text him now. _

_ have fun ;) _

 

Grantaire sighed and pulled up a new text to Enjolras.

 

_ hey, this is R from the cafe. sorry i never texted sooner. i checked the schedule and we almost always have tuesdays and thursdays free. Chetta said she’s fine with you guys coming in so you’re good to go. _

 

Not two minutes later a new text appeared.

 

_ Hey! Thanks for getting back to me! That’s great, we should see you then. _

 

Then, a second later:

 

_ Also, is R a nickname? Or have I just been terribly mishearing people for the past two days? _

 

Grantaire muffled a laugh and Éponine glared at him suspiciously. 

 

_ no, no you’re fine. it’s a nickname. a pun, really. my name kind of sounds like ‘grand r’ in french and R is just easier to pronounce.  _

_ That’s the second french pun I’ve heard you connect. You definitely know more french than you’re admitting.  _

_ fine. you got me. i know a bit of it conversationally. my family has a lot of french relatives so i picked stuff up from my cousins growing up. not a big deal. _

_ Right. You just casually speak another language and it’s not a big deal. _

 

There was no way he was going to tell him he could actually speak Spanish and Italian, too. He already felt like a pretentious asshole.

 

_ i know for a fact Courf is bilingual, don’t exaggerate.  _

_ I guess that’s a fair point. Oh, that reminds me. Courfeyrac wanted me to make sure you’re coming to the meeting tomorrow. _

 

Courfeyrac could have just asked him directly, instead of making Enjolras do it. Grantaire rolled his eyes at his friend’s laziness. 

 

_ uh, yeah. i think i should be there. i’ve probably been talking your ear off, sorry about that. i’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing _ .

_ Oh, okay. You’re fine, it wasn’t a bother. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. _

 

Grantaire sat there staring at his phone, debating whether or not to reply with a casual ‘goodnight’, or just leave the conversation as it was. Finally, Éponine huffed and snatched his phone away.

“You’re not paying enough attention to me. What’s the point in living together?” She elbowed him in the ribs. 

“The grace of having your presence every day?” She rolled her eyes. 

“What’re you doing, going to this stupid meeting anyway?” Grantaire paused at that. He wasn’t actually sure why he was so set on going to this meeting. 

“I dunno. Courf asked me to and so did the other kid. I figured I couldn’t flake out on them.”

“You flake out on people all the time. You just think the other one’s cute. Enjolras, was it? God, everyone in this city has a weird as fuck name.”

“You’re one to talk. Also I do not think he’s cute, shut up.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Okay, whatever, he’s kind of cute. That’s not the point!” He said it as quickly as possible, but Éponine still smirked in victory. 

“It would never work, anyway,” he told her. “He’s a little too idealistic for someone like me, don’t you think? I don’t exactly scream ‘student revolutionary’. These are the same kids that staged that protest a few months back.”

“The one for Governor Lamarque? Shit, Gav wanted to go to that so bad. I remember that. It turned really nasty, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, Joly’s boyfriend ended up in the hospital.”

“Isn’t Bossuet basically in the hospital every other week?” 

“Well, still. You know what I mean.” Éponine laughed.

“I think you’re making excuses. Didn’t you used to want to change the world?” She nudged him playfully.

“Yeah, and I learned really quickly that the world didn’t particularly want to be changed.” He leaned his head on her shoulder and felt her sigh.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re far too dramatic?”

“Shut up.”

“Love you too.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long and it's not very looonnngggg. the first week of classes were distracting what can i say. oh also idk if any of yall are into voltron but i wrote something for that so if u wanna check it out be my guest super sorry this took so long D:

Tuesday morning saw snow instead of rain, which Grantaire found suited his mood quite well. He still didn’t have anyone to go to the meeting with and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go alone. He tried cornering Éponine right before he left for work, while she was waiting for Gavroche so she could take him to school.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go tonight?”

“R, if you ask me about that stupid meeting one more time I will not hesitate to smack you.” She didn’t even look up from the tablet she was on. He decided it was in his best interest to back off.

“All right, fine. I’m heading to work. I’ll see you later tonight when I get back.” She nodded her head slightly, still not bothering to glance up.

The sight of Joly behind the counter of the Musain filled him with relief. Joly was one of his favourite people to work with. They had been friends for years, and it had actually been Joly who had got him his job at the Musain back in high school. 

“R! I have a very important idea to run past you. It needs a second pair of eyes.” Joly’s excitement was always infectious. Grantaire grinned.

“Is it better than the cartoon about a crime-solving T-Rex?”

“Who also plays the saxophone! No, nothing’s ever going to top Inspector Rex. He’s a once-in-a-millennium idea.”

“Too true, my friend.”

“No, this is a brand new idea. So there’s this man who can only speak in puns and-.” He was interrupted by the chime of the bell bringing in a familiar bald head. Joly’s sentence quickly turned into a small squeak. 

“My love!” You could practically hear the adoration in his voice. “What are you doing here? I thought you had class?” Bossuet went to the nearby university. What he studied, well, that was anybody’s guess. Grantaire wasn’t entirely convinced that Bossuet himself knew. 

“Ah, well…” Grantaire knew what that usually meant. Joly raised an eyebrow. “I’m, uh, skipping?” A dish towel was immediately hurled in his direction.

“What is the point of paying for that university if you don’t even go to class half the time?” Joly practically wailed. Bossuet grinned cheekily, completely unapologetic. 

“So you can tell the world you’ve got yourself an educated man, of course!”

“In all fairness, we all know Musichetta’s way smarter than all three of us combined, so I think you’re good on the whole ‘smart partner’ thing,” Grantaire interjected. 

“Hell yeah I am,” came a voice from the back. They waited, but Musichetta did not appear. Grantaire assumed she was probably busy. Not busy enough to not eavesdrop, though. 

“But really, why are you here?” Joly was back to focusing on his boyfriend.

“Oh! Right. I just wanted to check where the meeting was tonight. My phone died,” he said, shrugging. Grantaire was pretty sure Bossuet’s phone lived it’s life on half battery, choosing to die at the absolute most inconvenient times. It was just one thing in a long list of little disasters happening around Bossuet.

“The meeting’s here, babe. I told you this three separate times this morning.”

“I had water in my ears.” Grantaire perked up.

“Wait, are you guys talking about revolution club, or whatever it is?” He probably sounded a little too eager there. Both Joly and Bossuet looked at him strangely.

“You mean the same club we’ve asked you to join at least six times? Yeah, that’s the club. Why?” Grantaire shifted on the spot uneasily.

“Yes? Well, I, uh. I had a change of heart. But I don’t want to go alone and I need someone else to go with.”

“Why don’t you just come with us?” Joly’s gaze narrowed even further.

“I can’t be the only one who’s new! That’s weird. Everyone will think I’m weird.” 

“Courf told me his new flatmate was planning on coming to the meeting today. Why don’t you go with him? I can give you his number if someone in here has a charger.” Bossuet piped up.

“Why the sudden change of heart, anyway?” Joly asked suspiciously. “We’ve been trying to get you to come for months!” Grantaire avoided his eyes, not knowing how to explain what had happened. Mostly because he wasn’t sure himself.

“Ooo, I bet you met Enjolras, didn’t you?” Bossuet laughed. Grantaire looked up in surprise. Joly suddenly laughed, too.

“Of course. How did I not realize. He does tend to have that effect on people. Figures. You reject your friends but the second his blonde little ass waltzes in…” Grantaire sputtered. 

“That’s not-! You’re just-! Courf asked me to go too, you know!”

“Oh, so Enj  _ did _ ask you!” Joly looked way too gleeful. 

“Shut up!”

“Ooo, R’s got a crush!” Bossuet sang in a high voice. 

“I do not! Oh my god you guys are the worst. I’m trying to be a nice person!” 

“Well that’s a new one,” came the same voice from earlier. Grantaire turned around to see the short frame of Musichetta in the doorway to the back of the cafe. 

“Chetta!” cried both Bossuet and Joly. Musichetta blew them both a kiss and they pretended to swoon.

“So, R, what’s this I hear about you coming to the ABC meeting?” she asked, eyebrow quirked and a smirk on her face. 

“It’s just one meeting, it’s not like I’m joining or whatever,” Grantaire protested. Musichetta rolled her eyes.

“I know you, mijo. Now, isn’t it time you go to work?” The question was directed at both him and Joly, who jumped guiltily. “Bossuet, I love you, cariño, but these two idiots have to work.” Bossuet just nodded cheerily and headed toward the door.

“When I get home I’ll charge my phone and send you that kid’s number, R.”

“What’s the kid’s name, anyway?”

“I don’t actually remember. He just moved in with Courf. It’s something Italian, I think. Oh! Mario! I’m pretty sure it’s Mario!” With that, he disappeared out into the rain. 

So Grantaire was going to a meeting of idealistic little revolutionaries with a guy from a nintendo game. 

Great. Maybe they’d pick up Luigi on the way.

  
  


Six o’clock that evening saw Grantaire standing outside an apartment building, soaking wet with his phone in his hand. He stood there, wondering if he should buzz the flat or if he should just wait. Apparently Courfeyrac had to get to the meeting early or whatever, so his friend was happy to have someone else to show up with, which suited Grantaire quite well. 

Five minutes passed and Grantaire finally made up his mind to press the buzzer. Just as he was approaching the little box, the front door of the building flew open and a streak of freckles bumbled out, looking wildly disoriented. His eyes caught on Grantaire.

“You must be Grantaire! Courfeyrac’s told me about you!” He seemed earnest, with blue eyes and a face that reminded Grantaire of a galaxy, with all the freckles smattered across it. 

“Yeah, you’re Mario, then?”

“Ah, it’s Marius actually!” Damn. He had been looking forward to knowing someone named Mario.

“Marius. Latin. I like it. You can call me R. I’ve heard very little about you but I’m sure you’re great.” Marius gave a nervous little laugh, reminding Grantaire of a very skittish cat. 

“Okay, cool! That’s, uh, cool.” 

“So, Marius, what do you do?” They started their walk toward the Musain.

“Oh, I’m a linguistics major. Right now I do some translating work for the university.”

“What languages do you speak?” Marius gave a little pause.

“Uh, well, there’s English of course!” He gave a little laugh. “After that there’s French, German, Spanish, conversational Mandarin, a bit of Portuguese, and Latin, but no one really  _ speaks  _ Latin I guess.” Another nervous laugh. Grantaire felt taken aback.  

“What the fuck.” Marius’ wide eyes found Grantaire hastening to say something less aggressive. “Dude, that’s. That’s amazing.” Marius turned pink.

“It’s nothing big! I just have a knack for languages.” If Grantaire was half as talented at art as Marius was at languages, well, he certainly wouldn’t be a barista, that was for sure. 

“Do you speak anything?” Marius asked expectantly. 

“Oh, just a bit of things randomly. Conversational stuff. Nothing like the ones you know.” Again, he was slightly under-exaggerating his knowledge, but Marius needn't know that.

“I think knowing any part of a second language is incredible!” Grantaire couldn’t help but like this guy. He seemed very sincere. If this was any indication, maybe the meeting wouldn’t be that  bad after all.

 

 

Oh, if only he had known.

**Author's Note:**

> will update tags/summary as it goes on. expect a lot of boys being stupid ad a lot of miscommunication. im shoving every trope i love into this stupid fic and im dragging you all with me. welcome to hell. 
> 
> also quick note: thanks for leaving comments, guys. they really make my day and make me wanna write <3


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